


Growing Fangs

by Geekspren



Series: Exiles [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, mother/daughter relationships hurt my heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geekspren/pseuds/Geekspren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long before she was the Hero of Ferelden, a young Nela Tabris had a hero of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Fangs

“Nela, where did you get that?" 

Nela froze, ears pricking at the sound of her mother’s voice. She turned slowly, blue eyes meeting the deep brown that gazed back.

"Um, get what?" She mumbled, eyes dropping to the ground. 

"This." Adaia frowned and kneeled down in front of her small daughter, brushing away the gangly mess of brown hair covering the large purplish mark that spread from Nela's eye to cheek to jaw. 

Her eyes narrowed, and after a moment's inspection she stood, taking her daughter by the hand before she could reply. "Come."

She brought Nela to the large table that stood in the center of the main room, lifting her up to sit on the edge. Moving to the small nook in the wall where a few buckets and their family’s poor excuse of a bathing tub rested, Adaia grabbed a rag and a bucket still filled from the morning before moving back to the table. Wetting the rag, she pressed it against her daughter’s bruise, gently wiping away the dirt crusted over it.

"Who did this to you?" her mother asked after a moment of silence. Nela swallowed, feeling her throat constrict. Mama rarely sounded so cold.

"I... I just fell is all, Mama."

"Nela." 

She shrunk even more, wishing she could slide through the table and into the ground. She had been sure to sneak in as quietly as possible. How had Mama heard her?

"Nela," Her mother said more gently. "Tell me what happened."

"I um... I got hit," she whispered.

Mama's thumb traced lightly along the swollen skin, eyes hardening. "Who hit you?"

"No one..."

"Nela."

"One of the baker's sons..." Nela trailed off, still refusing to look up. Her mother hummed thoughtfully. 

“You don’t normally fight with the baker’s boys.”

"I didn't start it!" She said fiercely, hands balled into tiny fists on the table’s edge.

Mama sighed and lightly cupped Nela's cheeks between her hands, tilting her head up. "I didn't say you did, little wolf.” She continued to frown, though the steeled look from before had relaxed into one of concern. “Why did he hit you?"

"He called Shianni a knife-ear and grabbed her hair." 

"And then he hit you?"

"No." Nela's lower lip jutted out in a pout. "I tackled him and we started fighting. But he grabbed a metal thing and I couldn't... I lost." Her head ducked. "...'M sorry." 

"What?" Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Why are you sorry?"

Nela scrunched her face. "Because I lost and-- and I thought I could fight like you b-but... You're not mad?"

When the baker had found them fighting, she had pulled Nela away by her ears and screamed at her, saying that a knife-ear like her should learn to behave before she ended up dead in the gutter like all the others who caused trouble. The worst part had been the frightened tears in Shianni's eyes and that stupid smug look on the son's face as they watched. Nela wished she could have smashed in his nose. 

Mama let out a low chuckle and pressed her lips above Nela's brow. "The only one that I am angry with is that boy, Nela. I will be having a word with his mother." She moved to kiss her daughter's nose before setting the rag down and touched her forehead to hers. 

"You were trying to protect Shianni, little wolf. You did the right thing. I could never be mad for that. However--" She paused and lightly prodded the swollen cheek, making Nela wince. "You need to learn when to fight as well as how. So this doesn't happen again."

“I know how to fight,” Nela pouted. “Kinda.”

Her mother had been teaching her how since she had been able to walk and grip the small training sticks she used. Somewhat, anyway. Many days were focused on movement and strange concentration techniques and so many stances she had to hold for what seemed like _hours,_ but Mama insisted on them and she knew better than to argue. 

“That you do.” Her mother smiled. “And how old are you?”

“Um… five, I think?” Where was this going?

“Yes, about. And do you know what I was doing when I was your age?”

“You were five, Mama?” Nela asked, scrunching up her face. Mamas couldn’t be little girls.

Her mother laughed. “Yes, little wolf. Once, long ago. When I was your age I wasn’t learning to fight, I was struggling to survive in a forest with a clan of wandering elves.” A distant look clouded over her eyes. She never liked talking about the forest clan.

“I learned to fight at a much later time in my life-- and it was hard, very hard, to get to where I am now.”

“But you’re invincible!”

“Not invincible. Just very skilled, and very clever.” Mama pulled her head back and pressed a finger against Nela’s nose. “And it took years of hard training.” She said, emphasizing the last two words with light taps. 

“There is no shame in losing, Nela. It is good to lose because that’s how you learn. Come,” Her mother reached under her arms to pick her up and set her onto the floor. "We’re going to the alley behind the house and you're going to show me how the fight went-- what you did and what he did. We'll see that he's the one with a mark on his face if this happens again.”


End file.
